


Hazel Fantasia

by annascathach



Series: Draco's Girls [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annascathach/pseuds/annascathach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knock at the door. She shuddered. Oh, he had returned, after a long time, he had finally returned. Draco/Pansy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hazel Fantasia

A knock at the door. Hard and demanding. She knew it was him, her husband, and shuddered. Oh, he had returned, after a long time, he had finally returned. Returned, but to what home? He had left her shortly after their wedding –

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Then she heard him calling, calling in that hard voice of his, the voice that sounded like steel, "Pansy". She shuddered again, it had been far too long for her liking, and she was desperate.

\----

After all this time, there he was again, standing in front of her door, just like he had once upon a time. Back then he'd been begging for forgiveness, imploring her to take him back and finally asking her to marry him. He grinned. Of course she had accepted him. She had been overjoyed that he had – how had she put it? – eventually seen reason. He knew that she had loved him, that she probably still did. On his part, he had never loved her, despite pretending that he did for everybody – his parents, her parents, even their friends. To him she had merely been a toy, a pretty puppet to play with and to show around, someone that he could rely on if needed, but did not really trust.

However, there he was, standing in front of her door, their door, again, like some foolish schoolboy waiting for his first rendezvous. He needed her now more than ever. She was the only one left, the only one to go to, the only one that mattered.

He knocked again, the sharp sound of his fist connecting with the wooden door resounding in the dark hallway. "Pansy," he called, with what he thought would be the right degree of regret and desperation. And then, finally, she did open the door.

Her smiling face – oh how he had missed it – welcomed him home. Home. He was home. Unconsciously he smiled back, a warm, a real smile.

She opened the door even wider. Almost instantly he was welcomed by warm candlelight, the scent of home and the vibrant frilly pink robes she wore. She still looked familiar, even after all that time he had spent working for Voldemort. Her smile and the tears that threatened to spill over in her warm brown eyes made him think that, finally, maybe he didn't love her, but he had certainly missed her. As she had missed him.

One step, and they were in each other's arms again, relishing in the sincerity of their embrace. Although they were married, they did not embrace like a couple would, they acted like old dear friends that saw one another again after a long separation. His face buried in her hair, he inhaled her scent – mint, roses and a faint reminder of chocolate. A smile began to form on his lips. He held her even closer, closer still, closer than they ever had been, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She lifted her head from where it had been buried in his chest and neck, looking at him, her eyes now changing from a soft, caring look to a desperate one. Her hands were clutching at his coat, frantically trying to tear it off. He chuckled, mistaking her desperation for an overwhelming love, and took his coat off.

The next instant, her mouth was on his, her tongue boldly tracing the outline of his lips. Obligingly he opened his and their tongues played again the battle they'd played many times before. It was familiar, but this time it felt different. He could not fathom why – maybe because of his absence, or maybe their feeling had changed over time. Whatever the cause, it was not an unpleasant sensation, so he welcomed it her kiss in kind. For a moment he thought of how good it felt to be here with Pansy, to have someone to hold on to, someone to rely on, even if he did not trust her entirely.

Breaking their kiss, he smirked down at her flushed face. Without a word, without even blinking her eye, she took his hand and led him through the dimly lit hallway. They passed wooden doors, ancient paintings and blooming flowers; her mansion truly was beautiful, but at that moment he couldn't care. All that mattered was her small warm hand in his, leading him into a future that he had not foreseen.

A sudden panic began to fill his stomach, he felt uneasy, uncertain, and afraid of wherever she was taking him. What if she had found out about…? What would he do? Yet he could not make himself completely mistrust Pansy. She was his wife, for Merlin's sake, and he knew that she had loved him once. As for now, he was not entirely certain. The uneasiness he felt was making his hands shake slightly. He hissed, trying to control his body's treacherous reactions. If she had felt him shiver, she did not acknowledge it, but continued her walk along the seemingly endless corridor.

When they eventually came to a halt in front of a massive wooden door, he was suddenly very calm. Either she did know – in that case he would be dead in a matter of seconds – or she did not, but in any case he would not be waiting any longer.

Her hand seemed to linger on the doorknob for just a split second too long. Instantly, his muscles tensed, prepared to jump and defend himself. She certainly was his wife, but in matters such as these relations hardly mattered. Then she turned the knob, and pushed him forward into the dark room. With a flick of her wand, the candles that she had put up all around the room lit up.

Looking at the room, he was genuinely surprised, stunned even. Pansy had managed to turn their once black and white monotone bedroom into a work of art. The immense wooden bed stood in the center, covered in forest green sheets. The walls shimmered in a dark grey, and hundreds of candles put up around the walls created moving shadows. Although he did not recognise the bedroom anymore, it was breathtaking.

"Pansy," he breathed. Then everything seemed to happen very quickly. He didn't have time to utter a single word. Suddenly Pansy was dragging him to the bed, pushing him down on the sheets with a force he hadn't known she possessed.

Already he felt her warm hands ripping off his robes, and he was clutching to her shoulders, hanging on for dear life. Merlin, he had missed her.

A growl escaped his throat. Grinning she leant down to kiss him. Her kiss was hot and desperate and he responded in kind. Her hands seemed to be everywhere, roaming his chest and back freely – claiming her territory. Then his hands were starting to move over her back, tearing the pink fabric apart. The ripping cloth sounded loudly in the relative silence of the large bedroom that was only broken by their quick breathing.

She leant down again, capturing his lips with hers, and their battle became once again heated. He was about to break the kiss when she did. And suddenly their hands were clutching at each other's body, clinging and scratching, as if they were desperately searching for something. He felt Pansy's fingernails tracing a trail down his back and, a mere second later, burning blood trickling down his spine. Although it probably should have been, it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. It seemed somehow ... appropriate. A sign for how twisted, how dark and how difficult their relationship really was. All of a sudden, a hollow laugh escaped his lips. She joined in, clearly not comprehending why he was laughing so ironically right then.

He turned around, lying on his belly. Breathing heavily, she was stretched out next to him. A feral grin started to form on Pansy's face. The next thing he knew, she was sitting across his back, bending to lick every single drop of blood from his muscular back. He shuddered. Merlin.

After languidly washing off every trace of blood with her tongue, she slowly turned him around. Finally he could see her on top of him. Her hair was falling into her face, her eyes partially obscured by the hazel locks. Slowly, a smile began to spread on his face.

This was what he had dreamed of every night since all had begun. Between all the screaming and torture and dying, it had been good to have something to hold on to. Her. Pansy. His Pansy, his wife. He knew he was hers, too, but it was all so twisted. Twisted. It had been twisted from the beginning. They weren't supposed to love each other as friends, yet they did. They weren't supposed to fall in a complicated sort of love. They weren't supposed to marry, yet they did. They always had. He supposed it was not a question of love or hate, but rather of alliance and trust. Sometimes, like today, there was lust in the deal, as well.

He wanted her so badly. While he had been thinking, she had started rocking back and forth, her hair moving in the rhythm. He looked up at her face, amazed. He hadn't expected her to want him that way, and certainly not this much after all that time. Wanting her was easy in moments like these.

A smile appeared on his face. Then he suddenly turned them around – Pansy screeched in surprise – and pulled him firmly on top of her. He kissed her again. Her lips tasted like fire now, and it felt like fever. As though a dream, he lifted his hands up to cup her breasts. Although the shreds of her dress were still covering her black lace bra, she moaned deeply and beneath the sheer fabric he could see her nipples hardening already.

She ripped off the last barriers between his lips and her breasts herself. The torn fabric fell to the floor as he assaulted her body with feather-lit kisses and sharp bites. Her initial sigh turned to a moan when he lightly applied his teeth to her nipple. As the seconds passed, time seemed to slow for him. He only heard her regular moaning, breathy and wanton. She made him want her so badly.

Yet he hesitated to move any further. She looked so good there beneath him, her brown hair flowing over the pillows, and it had been such a long time. But then she was clutching at him, trying to take his shirt off while pulling the last remains of what once had been a dark blue dress off her legs. He moaned in surprise – never had he seen her so eager. It only made him want her more. He was so hard now, harder than ever it seemed, and he nearly couldn't take it any longer.

It was him who got rid of the last pieces of clothing that separated them. Then it was all a frenzy, all lust mingled with a strange feeling – he didn't have time to wonder what it was, for she was wriggling beneath him in a most delicious way. Moving his hips in rhythm, they were nearly breathing in sync now and he realized she wanted him as badly.

That was all it took. Without further caresses, he entered her swiftly. She cried out in surprise but started rocking her hips back and forth as they built a rhythm. He was moving faster and faster inside of her and she was joining him in every stroke. The he leant down and captured her lips again. She was so tight, and oh, it felt so good to be home.

His hands blindly reaching for her breasts, he slowed his speed until he was barely moving. She racked her fingernails across his back, barely touching, a desperate moan escaping her lips. However he was not going to give in. He moved slowly, relishing in each languid stroke. She was sighing, and he joined in when she pulled him into her with an animal force. Upon the sudden movement, he felt her walls clenching, and the next hurried entering was both of their undoing. He slid in and out of her, feeling her release, and knowing he was close, oh so close, and then she gave a satisfied moan and he was flying. He was spilling into her, still moving, and he was flying, flying, finally flying. And he was home, and it was splendid.

Later, in her arms, he wondered briefly why it had taken him so long to finally come home, for he'd always known he belonged right here. She should not be a fantasy. He belonged right here, in her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Draco's Girls Series. Inspired by Nightwish's song "Nymphomaniac Fantasia".
> 
> Thoughts? Drop me a line!


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